


We Know Someday (We'll Go All The Way)

by orphan_account



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Baseball, First Meetings, Happy accidents, M/M, clumsy sebstan, first evanstan fic so sorry if it's terrible, i've had this in my head for weeks and had to dump it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 01:49:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7147190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"C'mon, Mackie, chill out," Sebastian mutters, trying to make his way back to his seat. Anthony ignores him, still yelling at the batter.</p><p>The pitcher winds up, and several things happen at once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Know Someday (We'll Go All The Way)

**Author's Note:**

> So i know i have a multi-chapter fic that i just started but....  
> This Evanstan baseball meet thing has been bouncing around in my head this whole weekend sooooo herewego
> 
> For anyone curious, the Chris hairstyle that i imagined for this story is the longer version of his cap hair, if that makes any sense (close cropped on the sides, longer in front, not combed back) and he has the start of a beard? But not full Chris Beard. Not yet. And Seb has short hair, like, Chris Beck hair. (P.S. If you haven't seen Seb in The Martian, go watch it right now.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I also know ZIP about Yankee Stadium or it's patrons, so sorry for any inaccuracy. :/
> 
> (i still have homework guysss)
> 
> enjoy!

Looking back on it, Sebastian isn't even sure why he's there. He doesn't particularly like baseball.

Not that he's complaining, of course; Anthony's company has  _really nice seats,_ the kinds just off home plate but not directly behind it, with padded cushions and free food and an air conditioned area with live-feed TV's for when the summer heat in New York City gets too unbearable for the rich fans. Guys in button-downs and shed ties lean back with draft beer in plastic cups with the Yankees logo, arms on the back of their wives chairs. Women sit cross legged with their sweaters underneath them to keep their legs from sticking to the seats and adjust their sunglasses on the bridge of their nose, taking some interest in the game but more in the wine that seems to be magically refilling in their complementary glass, courtesy of the clubhouse. Sebastian surveys all this with a semblance of amusement, standing next to Anthony with one hand gripping a Coke and the other in the pocket of his shorts, trying to ignore the vaguely uncomfortable sensation of the sweat on the back of his neck dripping down into his tee-shirt. Someone hits the ball, and someone runs, and the crowd roars; Anthony hollers something  _obscene_ at the Red Sox pitcher, and Sebastian pretends to be angry. He's indifferent, of course, but he'd never say that here. That's almost as bad as the social suicide that would be --

\--that incredibly  _good looking_ man in a fucking Red Sox shirt that just walked out of the food area with a beer in his hand, talking to the guy walking next to him.

Cute Guy begins getting dirty looks immediately, but no one's throwing beer (honestly, they're not  _soccer fans)_ and he makes his way down the steps and into the row right in front of Sebastian.  _Nice._ Cute Guy has brown hair, close cropped on the sides and long in the front, and a beard that's in between stubble and Full Beard, blue eyes that are  _sparkling_ in the Saturday evening sun...

Sebastian shakes his head and makes a funny noise, earning him a weird look from Anthony. "You okay, man?" he asks, taking a swig of whatever he's drinking.

Sebastian swallows. "Yeah, Mackie. Fine."

Anthony side-eyes him, but says no more. "Alright, man.  _C'mon, Boston, go back North and drink your harbor tea, you amateurs!"_ He earns himself a disgruntled look from Cute Guy, who, thankfully, seems smart enough not to say anything to him surrounded by tipsy, rich Yankees fans.

Sebastian looks down at his empty Coke cup. "I'm getting a refill."

Anthony chugs down the rest of what Sebastian has determined is beer mixed with some nonalcoholic drink mix from the bar. It smells positively revolting. "Alright, Seabass. Don't hurt yourself."

"Eat your own words, Mackie," Sebastian quips, shoving his way out of the row and walking up towards the doors.

The air conditioning hits his face and it's more euphoric than anything Sebastian's ever experienced. He wanders over to the soda machine, refilling his sweating soda cup, then wanders the room, reluctant to go back outside. He swipes a few hors d'oeuvres as he goes; a deviled egg here, a salmon baguette there, some sort of blueberry tart at the end of the table on his way towards the bathrooms. The restroom is gloriously clean and surprisingly empty. Sebastian sets his cup down on the counter and wipes the sweat off his face with a paper towel, considering his reflection in the mirror. 

He looks flustered. It's not a good look. 

He shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair, then grabs his cup and goes back outside.

They sit and stand for six more innings. The sky gets darker, and the stadium lights come on, shining down on the field. Sebastian chats with an old man next to him with a score-keeping book and a wicked sense of humor, laughing as he snarks about all the players. He shakes Sebastian's hand, introducing himself as Stan Lee ("that's not Stanley, but Stan. Lee. The papers always get it wrong.") and teaches Sebastian how to keep score, marking strikes and home runs with a little pencil. Cute Guy looks back at them sometimes, chuckling quietly at one point when Stan makes a joke about the Yankees catcher. Sebastian blushes and pretends to ignore him.

(He's pretty sure he's failing miserably, but at least he's trying to save face.)

Stan gets up to leave as the seventh inning starts, talking about naps missed and getting the rest of the score on the radio. The batter up for the Yankees is a lefty, and there are two strikes; the crowd is  _screaming_ at him, yelling to hit  _something, for Pete's sake._ Anthony, standing next to him, is well on his way to being very drunk, and waves his hands around wildly. 

"C'mon, Mackie, chill out," Sebastian mutters, trying to make his way back to his seat. Anthony ignores him, still yelling at the batter.

The pitcher winds up, and several things happen at once.

The Yankees hit a home run. Cute Guy turns to watch the ball go. Sebastian gets hit in the face by Anthony's cup and trips over nothing -- 

\--and somehow manages to land in the row in front of him, bridal-style in Cute Guy's arms. 

It's such a cliche, Sebastian almost laughs. Except he doesn't. Instead, he turns bright red and starts spluttering sorry's and oops's and trying not to think about how many people are staring.

Cute Guy does laugh; a big, booming laugh where he throws his head back and almost drops Sebastian. "Hi there."

Sebastian blinks, turning quite possibly an even deeper shade of red. He's trying not to think about the fact that his hands are around Cute Guy's neck and he's almost kicking the lady in front of him and Mackie is laughing his drunk  _ass_ off above him. "Um, hi? Sorry about - it was an accident - my friend knocked my over - shit." He's flustered, trying to look anywhere but this guy's face.

Cute Guy sets him down very gently in front of the conveniently empty seat next to him.

"Should we start over?" He asks, holding out his hand. "Hi. I'm Chris."

Sebastian smiles gratefully and shakes it. "Sebastian. And," he turns, "that laughing idiot behind me would be Anthony."

Chris turns and waves to Anthony, who stops laughing a bit and shakes his hand as well. "How you doing?" Anthony asks him, thankfully ignoring his drink.

Chris smiles. "Pretty good! Well," He turns and gives Sebastian a little grin, "better now."

Anthony's eyebrows go up to his hairline, and that's all it takes to set him off again. Sebastian is still blushing. Chris laughs that laugh again, claps a hand over his chest, then turns and grabs the guy next to him. "Sebastian, this is Robert. RDJ, Sebastian."

Robert, who is wearing red-tinted sunglasses and chatting up the women in front of them, turns and shakes Sebastian's hand. "Nice to meet you. Very creative; most people would just buy him a drink if they wanted him to get the hint, but, y'know, what works for you works for you, right?"

Sebastian drops his face into his hands.

But Chris is laughing that laugh again and  _beaming_ at him, and if Sebastian lets out just a little cheer when the Red Sox hit a double, well, then, let's hope no one else notices.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There we are!
> 
> IDK if i wanna do a follow up to this or not, we'll see how people like it.
> 
> Title from "All the Way" by Eddie Vedder. It is a song about baseball. Yay!
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://darlingbvckyy.tumblr.com/)


End file.
